Desolate Smiles
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: Leonardo's smile has never reached his eyes. This, Salai knows. He also knows that Ezio is an idiot, but at least he's working to make Leonardo happy.


**D: Back to sadness, I see.**

**Pt. 2. pg. 5**

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><p>It's easy for him, really, to hide it all away with a smile. It's better not to bother someone who has more important things to be bothered with. Leonardo often held true to this philosophy. The only one he's ever cried in front of is Salai. And the youth knows all of this. He knows why Leonardo is often so sad. The man doesn't have to speak: Salai knows.<p>

He's upset because the birds at the market will never fly free again. He's upset because he sees the guards whipping their horses and ripping into the flesh of an animal. He's upset because he is ridiculed for his—what Salai knows are—incredible, unbelievable inventions. He's upset because he has so much in his brain he can't finish a commission, and so he falls behind, which makes him even more upset. He's upset because he's lived a bad life: he's been persecuted; he's been tormented, and he's been mocked. He's upset because the man he loves and cares for—Salai admits he is not yet a man, but he does so for Leonardo—is an assassin.

So Salai does everything he can to take his mind away from these things. He steals. He steals, and he lies, and he gambles. When he does these, Leonardo gets upset, but after a few sheepish looks and a kiss, he gets to see what no one else does: a soft, world-weary smile what shows in his eyes just how tired he is. It makes Salai nervous because he's afraid he'll come home and find his artist, his caretaker—his best friend—dead, which means no more smiles, no more secret cuddles late at night, no more sweet rolls from the bakery to share with someone.

He's kept a close eye on his friend's love. He doesn't like him, and he's made it clear. He watches Ezio and Leonardo late at night as they talk, and he loathes the man more with each visit. He hates seeing those fake smiles on his artist's face, acting so bright and cheerful. He hates how it tears Leonardo apart inside. He hates Ezio. It isn't until he's finally learning how to read that he realizes just how much he hates Ezio.

"Salai," the assassin says as he lounges in front of the fireplace.

Salai is at his desk, struggling through a primer. His best friend has gone out for some food. He looks up and stares at the assassin, who hasn't bothered to turn and look at him. When he realizes the assassin won't, he looks back down. He won't dignify him with a response.

"Salai."

He ignores him. He hears the assassin get up and walk over, the silent swish of his robes the only noise other than the fire. The man sits across from him, and he instinctively curls his fingers around the top of his primer: the man will not take it from him.

"Salai, I need to speak to you about Leonardo."

He will not respond. Ezio is no more a man—in his opinion—than he is. And if he is unresponsive enough, perhaps the beast will leave for good.

"I know you are listening."

"Then why do you not just speak?"

It was Ezio's turn to be silenced, and Salai smirks as he rests his head in his hand, struggling over the word _tristezza_. After a few moments, however, the brute speaks.

"What is causing Leonardo such grief?"

Salai stops reading, placing his finger on the word and looking at the assassin. "What?"

"What is causing Leonardo's sadness? I see it in his eyes."

His upper lip twitches in fury. There is no response to such an asinine question.

"You live with him. Tell me."

His fingers curl tightly in his hair, but he is far too irritated to notice the pain. He grits his teeth and looks back at the story. "Leave us alone, you ugly brute."

He pretends not to notice the frown on Ezio's lips. Salai is afraid he'll punch the man if he says any more. He does notice the glass vase within reach. It's never been filled: Leonardo hates cut flowers. They are dying more quickly than if they were allowed to reach a natural death.

Ezio sits there, silent, and he knows that Ezio is doing it on purpose. Just his presence is enough to drive Salai crazy with hatred. He continues to let the rage build inside him, spurred by the fact that a vase is right there, calling him to smash it over the dense assassin's head. He wonders if all of his bloodline is this stupid. He manages to make it through three more sentences before Ezio speaks again. Salai will not dignify him with any response, and it is pissing Ezio off. Salai knows that such blatant disrespect angers him.

"Speak, you insolent brat," he spits.

Salai is getting a twisted, bitter happiness from this. Ezio rises, and he almost laughs at the way he puffs out as if he were an animal trying to intimidate something. He sees the shadow fall over his book, and he spots the arm on either side of him. Salai looks at him with a hateful glare and spits in his face, and in that brief moment of recoil, he's got the vase and slams it into Ezio's arm.

But it's not without some damage. Several cuts appear on his face as he is tackled to the floor. The fight is brief, and there hasn't been more than one punch thrown before the door creaks open, and Leonardo is standing on the threshold to the studio. Salai gives Ezio a smug look.

"Ezio…"

The man's lip twitches. "He threw a vase at me."

Salai tips his head back. "I am sorry, Leonardo, but you should know better by now to leave me with him alone."

Leonardo rubs a hand across his face wearily, and Salai squirms from under the assassin, taking the bags and helping him to his favorite chair. He helps the artist sit and give him a kiss on the lips—much like a little boy does his brother—and in return, he gets that rare, weary smile that shows in his eyes. It's gone in an instant when Ezio comes back over, replaced by a fake one.

"Go and ready a place for Ezio tonight, would you, Salai?"

He does so, although he already knows that a nice fat spider will be waiting in his bed when he crawls in. After he has readied his enemy's bed, he climbs into the rafters and plucks a big, hairy spider from its web and places it under the covers. Once he's satisfied it will not move, he jogs down the stairs. He stops just outside the studio, peeking in through a small hole in the wall he made and listening.

Ezio and Leonardo are by the fire. He can see Ezio, but not his friend.

"What has been bothering you, Leonardo?"

There's a tired laugh. "It's nothing, my friend. I am exhausted. That is all."

"That is nonsense. I have known you for many years now. I have grown wiser in watching you. What ails you?"

"Did you know," Leonardo begins, adjusting himself in the chair from what Salai could see, "that King Solomon was considered the wisest man of the all? God granted him the gift of wisdom. I think that I shall have Salai read the Bible next. I used to read it to him as a child, when I first took him in."

Ezio is silent. Salai rises and walked in. "Your bed is ready, dog. You will find it outside, with the whor—"

"Salai!"

He smiles at the artist. "I am only kidding."

He laughs when he hears him say, "But one day I fear you will not be."

Salai stands by the artist, holding his hand out. "Come. Let's get you to bed."

The artist stands wearily, although that could be masked by his age creeping up on him. He takes the offered hand. "And so you deprive me of my companion?"

"Willingly," Salai chirps and prepares to lead him to his room, lacing their fingers together.

Leonardo gives his friend a one-armed hug. "Then I am off. Perhaps for the better: I have not slept well these previous few weeks. Good night, Ezio."

"Sleep well, Leonardo."

He catches the glare Ezio shoots at him. He knows that there is no more an intimate meaning to their handholding than a younger brother vying for his big brother's attention. But he also knows that Ezio does not know that. And that is what matters.

In all honesty, Leonardo does not need someone to lead him to his room. He is fit and strong, and he will live a great many years yet, but he enjoys Salai's company, and Salai knows this. He also knows that Leonardo enjoys their bedtime rituals. They change into their bedclothes, and then Salai lets his friend brush his hair—he doesn't understand why Leonardo likes to do that so much, but he isn't going to complain. After he works through the curls, he leans in and kisses his head, and Salai turns and gives him a big grin before climbing in beside him and curling up close. He had never had this attention from his family. Neither of them had, and he enjoys sleeping with him as much as the artist enjoys it in return.

Tonight, however, Salai's stomach begins to grumble, and he rises from the bed to go to the kitchen and rob it of whatever Leonardo had bought for the morning. He's happily munching away on a tomato when the threshold to the kitchen is filled. He doesn't dignify the figure with a greeting.

"Speak, boy."

He glances at the creature and sneers.

"What is wrong with Leonardo?"

He rolls his eyes and plops down at the bench, wiping the juice from his chin.

"Perhaps I can help him."

And that does it. That pisses Salai off beyond all belief.

"Help him? You fucking think you can help him?"

He's in the assassin's face, pointing a finger and everything.

"You've been his friend for years and never noticed. What makes you think you can help him? Hm? I certainly have no faith in you, you useless lump of flesh. You're a waste of life, and a waste of a friend! You wanna help him? I don't think you can."

Ezio snarls as Salai stalks back into the kitchen, pulling out another tomato. As he cuts this one, he sneers. "You're disgusting, you know that? You walk around, strutting your stuff, thinking the world should fawn over you. Well guess what: it doesn't. Your life isn't nearly as hard as you think it is. There are others who have it worse. You wanna help someone? Love them. You wanna cheer them up? Give the time of day. You wanna know what's wrong with Leonardo? Take the stick from your ass and give a shit about others."

He's slammed up against the counter, and he finds himself in a staring match with the assassin. He realizes he's the only one stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with a master assassin, but he's too riled up.

"Listen closely, you insolent brat: I don't know why Leonardo keeps you around, but I've put up with you for as long as you've been here, and you treat Leonardo like dirt."

Salai laughs bitterly. "You have no idea, do you? Have you ever seen him smile?"

"Of course I have—"

He brings the knife up in a quick motion, and Ezio is forced to let go and defend. He watches a confused look spread across the assassin's features as Salai's voice cracks.

"No, you've never seen him smile."

He waggles the knife at him.

"Never. Not once. Because you know why?"

He steps forward, and Ezio steps back, watching warily.

"Do you know why?"

"No," Ezio growls.

"Because then you'd realize he's not happy. And when he smiles, you'd think it's the most frightening thing ever, and you'd wonder if he's still going to be alive the next time you come through that door, and you'd give a shit about him and make him happy. You'd realize his life is harder than it seems, and that the past is not always as easy as just forgiving and murdering, and that some people can't sleep their troubles away with the whores."

Ezio has a doubting look on his face, and as Salai continues to approach him, he can't stop himself from speaking.

"You blind asshole. How much do you even know about his past? How many times has he lent you a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on, and how many times have you returned the favor? Have you ever felt love? I don't think so. I don't think you're capable of it. I don't think you can feel anything because that's what hate does to you. That's what Leonardo said. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you. You heartless, unkind old crone. Open your eyes and see what is in front of you. Learn how to care."

He throws the knife, the tip burying itself between Ezio's feet as he stalks from the room and back into his bed, curling up with Leonardo. After he's settled back in his artist's arms, he feels Leonardo's hand come up and run through his hair. He looks at the man, to find blue eyes full of sleep staring blearily at him.

"Is everything all right, Salai? I heard you talking downstairs."

Salai smiles. "Everything is fine. There is nothing to worry about."

Leonardo gives him a long, hopeless stare. Salai leans in and kisses his nose. "Cheer up, maestro. We are all safe, no one is hurt, and we are all well-fed."

His heart nearly rips in two when he sees that smile, amplified more by the sleepiness in his eyes. Leonardo nods once, barely, and slips back into sleep, and after the man's breathing has re-evened out, he hears the bedroom door click shut. Perhaps Ezio will finally learn.

Ezio was gone by the next sunrise, and Salai had never hated anyone so much. He smiles as Leonardo comes down the stairs wearily, rubbing his eyes. Salai has already made breakfast for them.

"Where is Ezio?"

Salai frowns. "He left before the sun rose. I don't know where."

Leonardo gives him a blank look before sitting at the table. They eat in quiet, and Salai watches him relax as he closes his eyes and listens to the birds outside. They're chirping merrily, singing a beautiful song, and Salai smiles as he watches his artist. The morning hours pass quickly, and it isn't until someone knocks at the door that they realize it's high noon. The day is beautiful. The sun is out, and the skies are bright blue. The fluffy white clouds crawl by at a lazy pace, and they can hear the children playing in the streets.

Leonardo rises with a sigh as Salai gathers the dishes. He listens to his artist's groan of pain, old age seeping into his bones, made worse by his constant depression. He dumps the dishes in a tub of water as the door swings open.

"Oh! Ezio! Salai had told me you left!"

He looks shocked and peeks around the corner to see the entrance. Ezio is standing there, a basket on his arm. Ezio is smiling warmly, his arms around Leonardo, who has not yet registered the hug. Immediately, the fake smile is in place, and he returns the hug jovially.

"Get your cap, Leonardo, and tell your assistant to come along."

"Ezio, I cannot afford to lea—"

"That is what you tell me every time. Go, fetch your hat."

Curious, Salai fetches it from his room and jogs down the stairs. "Here it is, maestro."

Leonardo looks surprised but carefully takes it and places it on his head, giving Salai an odd look, which the young man dismisses in favor of looking at the basket.

"What's in there?"

"Patience: you will see in due time. You two are dressed and ready. Come."

He leads them out to two horses, both saddled and stomping impatiently at the ground. "Leonardo, with me. Salai, I trust you can ride a horse?"

Salai scowls. "Of course."

The assassin helps Leonardo onto the horse and climbs on behind him, reaching around and grabbing the reins. Salai doesn't miss the softening of his smile as he runs his hands down the horse's neck as they walk off. Salai follows close behind Ezio and his artist, keeping a close eye on him as they exit the city and head toward a large open area. The closer they got, Salai can see what looked like a covered cage.

"Leonardo," he looked to see Ezio resting his chin on his artist's shoulder, "I saw this in the market, and I thought of you immediately. I could not help myself, and I thought that with the beauty of this day, we should have a picnic and celebrate second chances."

Salai was genuinely surprised when Ezio threw a quick, hopeful glance over his shoulder at him.

"What are you talking about, Ezio?" The artist's voice is soft.

As they reach the area, Salai notices two assassins in the distance disappear. He dismounts as Ezio helps Leonardo down. The master assassin pulls two packages from the saddle bags on Salai's horse and sits on the grass near the cage, and Salai watches him tug Leonardo into his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Open these first, Leonardo."

He can see the confusion and half-minded curiosity in Leonardo's eyes at Ezio's sudden displays of affection, and all Salai can think about is how Ezio had better not be leading Leonardo on, or he will wring his neck and watch him suffocate with pleasure. The artist pulls the paper and string off the packages and gasps, and Salai looks. There's a notebook in one, red velvet and decorated with gold stitching. In the other, there's several pieces of charcoal, and Leonardo looks happy, but his eyes don't quite.

"What are these for?"

"I told you, my friend, I saw these in the market, and I couldn't help but think of you. Go ahead, pull the cover off the cage. It needed care, and I could think of no other but you to treat it. And with your new notebook, you can draw it now."

Salai crouched by the cage as Leonardo leaned forward and took the cloth in his fingers. With a swift tug, it came off, and they both were surprised. An eagle, with its feathers matted and mangled, was stuffed into the tiny cage. It's head was hung, and Salai saw the same look of hopeless defeat in its eyes as he did in Leonardo's so often. In a flurry of hand movement, they unlatch the cage and pull the bird out carefully. It bites feebly at Leonardo's fingers and sounds even worse, but it cannot fly away, and Ezio has moved the basket to the artist's side, and Salai sees medical supplies resting in one half of the basket.

"My God, who could cage such a creature like this?"

The eagle gets a good nip in, and Leonardo hisses and sucks on the injury briefly.

"Such a magnificent animal, only to be holed up in a cage. People today are disgusting."

And there it is, Salai notes: the deep, passionate hatred for people that he knows Leonardo has. His anger rarely shows, but when it does, it's scary. Salai watches him struggle with the bird, cleaning it and dressing its wounds, and he does his best to help. Finally, the eagle is splinted and tended to, and Salai can see that horrid hatred burning in Leonardo's eyes with frown adorning his lips.

"How could someone do such a thing to a magnificent creature like this?"

Ezio leans against him, stroking the bird below the chin with little difficulty. "So long as there are people in the world to fight for them, there will be people in the world to destroy them."

Leonardo's frown deepens, and he jumps when Ezio places a soft kiss on the back of his neck. The eagle makes a pitiful noise, one that a predator of the skies should never make, its wing useless beside it, bound in a splint.

"And I am proud to say that I know a man who goes out of his way to help God's creatures."

Leonardo's cheeks are a light red, and Salai notices there's a cautious hope in his eyes.

"Ezio, what has gotten in to you today?"

"I had some sense talked into me last night."

Leonardo throws a glance at Salai, who shrugs. Hesitantly, as if Ezio would suddenly disappear from behind him, the artist leans back into him. Salai watches with distrust, worried the assassin will leave his friend high and dry like most of the women in his life. The rest of his day is spent worrying about Leonardo, through the picnic, through the ride home, and through most of the night, and as the days begin to pass and the eagle starts to heal, he begins to notice small changes in Leonardo's personality.

It's small changes, tiny, hardly there. Salai watches him finish two almost done commissions in a day, which has never happened before. He sees Leonardo dote on the bird like he dotes on the youth. He begins to see Ezio around the studio more, with small trinkets—a charm from the Far East, a modeling doll carved from African Ebony wood. Hugs are changing—they're stronger, tighter, and more desperate, if that's possible. He's even caught Leonardo humming once or twice to himself as he works, but that smile has yet to change.

He finds himself smiling more often now, and even gives Ezio a smile occasionally when he sees him trying in earnest to find that smile he described all that time ago. He finds himself growing to like the assassin, and he's startled when he catches himself thinking of Ezio as a father. It's late at night several months later—Leonardo has been working with the bird to restore its flight—and Salai is sitting at the kitchen table, munching on a pear as he gazes at the dying trees outside the window. He wonders if Leonardo's progress forward will be pushed back by all the death around him. He hopes not.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Ezio sits beside him. He looks at the man but says nothing. For once, he doesn't object when Ezio draws him close, and he leans into the older man's side like a boy might do with his father. They sit in silence for several minutes on the bench in the kitchen, gazing out of the window. Ezio is the first to speak.

"I have not seen it yet."

He looks up at the man to find him studying him. He raises an eyebrow.

"His smile you are so afraid of. I have not seen it."

Salai looks back down. "It is hard to find."

"Have I been going about this the wrong way?"

Salai shoots up, alarmed. "No, no! He has seemed so much gayer these past few months. Don't stop, please."

Ezio watches him closely.

"Even I have not seen his smile in a long time." Salai smiles, the pear juice dribbling down his hand. "Things are good."

He licks the juice and takes a bite from the pear, turning to look out the window.

"What an awful thing to say, yes?"

Ezio doesn't answer. Salai hangs his head with a soft sigh.

"He has had so much more energy. He is getting things done and seems so much more positive."

He feels Ezio tug him back against his side, and he goes with the motion.

"Thank you, Ezio."

He finds himself back in bed as the sun is rising and realizes he must have fallen asleep against the assassin. He notices that Leonardo is not beside him and yawns, stretching. There are soft voices above him, and he listens.

"The boy is maturing."

Leonardo's voice, barely above a murmur, "I know: I am impressed."

"He is concerned for you, you realize."

"Why?"

There is no response.

"Ezio?"

"The past few months have been good, yes?"

"Indeed, but do not change the topic, Ezio."

He gets out of bed and walks to the window, sticking his head out. He sees their feet dangling over the edge of the roof.

"Ezio! Leonardo!"

Leonardo's face appears above him, smiling—although his eyes still do not show it.

"You are awake finally. Ezio has agreed to take us out again today. Would you like to come?"

Salai blinks as Ezio peers over the edge. "He says the eagle can be turned loose."

Leonardo nods. "A good day indeed. We can take off the splint when we arrive at the destination."

Salai smiles. "Of course, maestro."

He ducks back in and dresses quickly. Leonardo and Ezio enter through the window and walk downstairs, and he can hear them put the bird in a basket and tether it down. He jogs downstairs and joins them at the door. Ezio pushes it open and lets them out.

"Leonardo, you take one horse; Salai and I, the other."

Salai raises an eyebrow but doesn't protest. Ezio hasn't been as horrible lately, and he has gotten Leonardo to act slightly happier, so he supposes he can deal with it. Besides, Ezio might even make a good father one day. He hops on the horse, and Ezio climbs on behind him, wrapping his arms around him and taking the reins. He's about to protest, but Ezio shushes him with a bump and a glance at Leonardo, who is the almost picture-perfect image of happiness sitting on the second horse with the bird basket firmly tied behind him. The eagle's head is peeking out of the blanket, and Salai takes a moment to admire the fire that has entered its eyes once more. The horses trot off, and soon, they're having a pleasant, leisurely ride through the countryside.

Once they're far enough away from human civilization, Leonardo signals for them to stop. They dismount and untie the bird basket, and Salai admires his artist as he struggles to keep the bird from flapping. Ezio manages to get it to calm down enough so Leonardo can take the splint off the wing, and they both pick it up. Leonardo stands there, holding the eagle. Ezio has his hands over the artist's, and the bird seems much calmer.

"One," Leonardo says, looking at Salai, who is standing off the side.

"Two," he continues, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Three!"

He and Ezio throw the bird in the air, and with a mighty screech, it takes off in an explosion of leaves and feathers, and Leonardo gasps in delight, watching the mighty predator take to the skies once more. And when he turns around, Salai is filled with happiness as the artist grabs his hand tightly, holding one of Ezio's in the other.

There, upon his lips, is a smile. And deep in his eyes, Salai can see happiness reflected in them.

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><p><strong>Especially with DesxShaun, why is the fandom so angst-laden? D: I wanna see happier stories. Lots of happy DesxShaun fluff. <strong>


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